Contained

The council does not gather for comfort. Something fell from the sky and lived, and that is not a thing this settlement can ignore. Sera keeps her report short. Contained. Guarded. Roan wants a word for it, something to hand the other clans when they come asking, and Sera gives them one. A prisoner, still being assessed. It satisfies the room. Not everyone in that room says what they're thinking. Elsewhere, the stranger in the cell has stopped waiting to be understood and started teaching himself how to be. Stone by stone, he is building something out of nothing, in a language no one gave him.